


Ragged

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Rough Sex, haha yes mild, mild but still smut, tiny moodfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: cigarettes and rainy evenings.





	Ragged

Edward smells of rain and damp, his knees – of wet asphalt. He has rough, slender fingers, and he presses into Henry like a broken bowstring, all to the last. Along the walls behind their backs crawl cracks; snakes, slipping under the bends of their sleeves and continuing embroidered lines; coiling in holes at the parquet and falling asleep. A lone lamp with a bare cord dies in an attempt to liven up this gray room. The window frame trembles, being tested by the gusts of north wind; its jingle is like a faintly hidden anticipation.

Their kisses are more like bites.

Edward keeps him victoriously, like a predator keeping his prey – knows that Henry won't even think of breaking free, revealing himself trustingly and touchingly. With cold hands, Hyde pushes him face to the wall, pulls off his jeans with a quiet hiss. Sharp. Bad. Today – like that. Today he's sick of the fact that smeared smiles of charming people couldn't once again hide their ugly souls; and the fact that the trip for the next unique artifact happens just a week after the last one; and the fact he forgot a fucking umbrella at home. Therefore Edward breaks down, therefore Edward recounts vertebrae under the thin skin with teeth and leaves bruises on thighs; the whole world rolls somewhere at speed, Edward rolls along. On the body beneath him blooms a pattern of marks, red, filled with blood like ripe pomegranates, and Henry sucks in a breath hoarsely, making to stop because Hyde  _cares_.

The wind finally penetrates through the wood holes, running across their heated flesh.

Was it always like that? - he thinks fleetingly, somewhere in the interval between the fifth and sixth thrusts, and then before the fifteenth. Breaking into a dirty, rented only-because-you-have-to-live-somewhere and out of decency apartment this way, wet and icy and just from under the thunderstorm – he thinks, and then – no, today is a special day. Today Henry doesn't look as usually, eyebrows narrowed, biting the edge of his stupid lip; and doesn't require a thousand and one thing, good behavior, and a bouquet of flowers to a bargain (and Edward surely forgets his favorite flowers because he's an asshole); and doesn't blame for "after such walks you catch a cold". Or maybe he's just had enough too, exactly today it's gotten to his throat and stuck; and brisk, without rhyme and rhythm, moves inside help to distract at least somehow. Yes, that's just it – he thinks to the last, and after the last gives himself up to the fireworks in front of eyes and in head.

 

Henry jerks a cigarette out of his fingers, crushing in almost dust – and Edward doesn't even have powers to get angry, besides, the floor of their balcony is ugly cold; he pokes his nose to Jekyll's chest, listening to the heartbeat. Over the ear hears mutter -

“Hard day?”

\- nods, feeling kisses lost in disheveled hair.


End file.
